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Saturday 31 March 2012

Project Village

  It all began with a file, which I saw for a few seconds only, but it was enough to seal my fate. Ordinarily I didn't have access to the important stuff. Mostly all I did was to make the tea, until they brought in that new fangled vending machine, you know the sort of thing, they make tea taste like tomato soup, and coffee like dish water, but I quite liked the hot chocolate.
   But there was this file you see, it landed on my desk one morning, which in itself was a mistake, I tried to tell Mrs Blakeworth but she would insist the file was meant for me. So I opended the plain brown cardboard file, marked 'Projest Village.'
   So here I am in the Village. Number Two is a decent enough chap, but he's never the same three days running. The other day I was summoned to his office in the Green Dome, and he was a stoutish man with a goatee beard. Two days later he was an American who treid to convince me I was a gunslinger. Me, a gunslinger, well I ask you. I did try though, and eventually I could throw that gun a good twenty feet! A week later when I met up with Number Two and he was a woman for gods sake!
   How long have I been here in the Village? Well it's difficult to tell really, a week, weeks, months. I was going home you see, from the office, when I got knocked off my bicycle. I remember an ambulace and a tall gaunt looking man bending over me, saying something about it being alright, that I was in safe hands......I was here! Did I talk? Well to be perfectly honest I'd not a great deal to tell them, but I told them what I knew. Yes, I collaborated, well I'm not like that Number Six you know, It's alright for him, they see him as being important, they see him as having a future with them. But what of my future?
   Number Two told me that I wasn't that important, and was surprised that they'd even bothered to send me here in the first place. But seeing as I was here, perhaps I could be of some use in the Village. She took out my file, and spoke to me through that ridiculous goatee beard, I wish she would shave it off! You used to be an office boy, and that you made the tea. I said if it's in my file it must be right, I felt strong then, offering what witty repartee I could in response. "You brought in the biscuits?" I said that sometimes I brought in the biscuits. "Proper biscuits?" Proper biscuits, I didn't know what she meant. "Proper biscuits, you know, the one's with cream inside." Oh those, no we didn't have any of those. Rich Tea, Shortbread, or Digestives I told her.
   So the days went on, weeks, months, a year passed by and I lived in the hope that one day I would be given a position of authority, but generally all I did was make the tea, and made sure Number Two always had "proper" biscuits. Then one day a file landed on my desk. I said to Number Eight that the file could not possibly be meant for me, as I've no access to the important stuff. But Number Eight assured me that the file was meant for me. So I opened the plain brown cardboard file marked 'Project Village,' there was nothing in it. The file was empty, devoid of one single sheet of paper, and I only saw it for a few seconds but it was enough to seal my fate...............
   There was a sudden thud as something struck me on the was the blackboard duster! "Wake up boy. Asleep were you Stimpson?" "No sir" I said. "No sir, no sir. You were dreaming boy" Mister Woods insisted "I wasn't sir." "It's that damned Prisoner you keep waffling on about Stimpson, and take that piped blazer off this minute. You know your not entitled to wear it. Only Captains of the sports teams are permitted to wear piped blazers." "I, I, I........" "Yes Stimpson, get it out." "I play chess sir." "What of it." Well you see playing chess was one thing I was good at, and I thought I could be the Captain of the school chess team, and that way I would be entitled to wear a piped blazer. But Mister Woods, the English teacher said that it was not the same thing. Then I was sent along to the Head Masters office for my nerve, and there I was bent over the Head Masters desk and given a stout twelve of the best. I said it should be six of the best, but the Head Master thought it best be twelve, so that I can remember!
   The Prisoner has been very impessionable on me, but if ever I see that damned plain brown cardboard file 'Project Village' again even for only a few seconds, I'll tear it up, shred it, even burn it, anything to destroy it!

Be seeing you

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